


Wicked Game

by ironkidnumberone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/F, F/M, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Multi, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironkidnumberone/pseuds/ironkidnumberone
Summary: In a alternative world where Aerys II Targaryen does not allow himself to be carried away by his madness and accepts the proposal of his Hand to unite both houses, Prince Rhaegar marries the young and beautiful Cersei Lannister, and this single detail drastically changes the whole future of the Seven Kingdoms. Without Robert Baratheon's Rebellion and with a legitimate Targaryen King occupying the Iron Throne, it's hoped that peace will finally reign supreme, but that is not quite the case.Across the Narrow Sea, old enemies that everyone thought were permanently defeated resurface with more force than ever - the Blackfyre, who threaten Westeros' fragile stability, while internal intrigues stir up the never-ending game of thrones and new pieces are added to the board.
Relationships: Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen, Doran Martell/Catelyn Tully Stark, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Roslin Frey/Edmure Tully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! My first long fic ever in Ao3, and i'm absolutelly terrified by it, but also very excited! It's kinda of a complicated story, and i hope that, with some extra information, you all can understand it without many trouble. 
> 
> Imperative things to know about the plot: 
> 
> \- Twenty years ago, 24-year-old Rhaegar Targaryen married 17-year-old Cersei Lannister, and they had three children together: Rhaenys, Aegon and Visenya;   
> \- There's no Robert's Rebellion;   
> \- Robert Baratheon married Lyanna Stark, and they had two sons: Adrian and Orion Baratheon;   
> \- Ashara Dayne married Eddard Stark, and they had four children: Ben, Lyara, Dyanna and Edric;   
> \- Jaime Lannister never became a King's Guard, married Elia Martell and had a set of twins: Jason and Jeyne Lannister;   
> \- Other unusual couples were formed (Doran × Catelyn, Mace × Lysa, and others), but mostly that will be explained further in the story;   
> \- The male Blackfyre lineage ended with Maelys Blackfyre, but in this universe, the female lineage still exists, and the last three ones are Maelor Blackfyre, Elaena Blackfyre and Daenys Blackfyre.

Rhaenys I

Funerals were definitely Rhaenys' least favorite events.

Normally, she would not even bother to attend such ceremonies, showing little or no interest in celebrating the dead; however, since she was the wife of the deceased, it is not as if she has much of a choice. If she had to do it, then she would do it right: in her funeral attire - a black dress with long sleeves, simple and modest, which covered every inch of her fair skin, accompanied by discreet jewelry and an equally dark veil hiding her golden hair - a wistful expression on her young features and wearing a small but very visible brooch with the insignia of her husband's house, Rhaenys played with calculated perfection her role as a desolate widow, and was fairly sure she was quite convincing. With one hand resting firmly on her stepdaughter's shoulder, the princess's violet eyes stared at her husband's lifeless body with no expression, while the septon continued the funeral ceremony that preceded the traditional procession. 

Corlys Velaryon had been a relatively decent husband, though. He was a withdrawn man of few words, but there was no hostility or disrespect in his behavior - had he been thirty years younger, a little taller, and a King, Rhaenys might even have liked to be his wife. But as it was, anyone who knew her at all should have been able to foresee, as she walked towards the altar of the Sept of Baelor, that it could not have a different ending. Even there, listening to the low sobs of little Alys, her stepdaughter, the princess almost felt bad for having murdered her husband.

Almost.

The fact is, she had nothing against Corlys personally; as said before, she even considered him a very decent man. The problem is that Rhaenys had been married to him against her will, and she made that very explicit to the King and the Small Council, only to be sold as an animal anyway to a man fifteen years older than her own father. The excuses they gave her were multiple: it was an advantageous marriage that respected the ancient Targaryen tradition of uniting within his their blood relatives, Lord Corlys had as his heir only a single young daughter from his previous marriage, and Rhaenys would have the respectful position of Lady of Driftmark. But Rhaenys was a princess of the Seven Kingdoms, the firstborn of King Rhaegar, first of his name, and Queen Cersei, and had even been titled Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Throne before her brother Aegon was born; she did not want to be Lady of anything, as any position other than that of Queen would be a decline from her previous status. At the time, the princess, then seventeen years old, publicly repudiated such a union, but as only a woman, she was duly ignored by the court men, who practically dragged her to the Sept and forced her to proclaim her vows.

They prided themselves to be very smart, all of them, thinking that they could send her off with some old man and she would gladly go, that she would smile and shut her mouth and stand still like a statue while her new husband stuffed his member inside her and tried to generate heirs, which was something that he clearly no longer had the ability to do for a long time. And Rhaenys remained, for long three years, like the good obedient little princess she was, taking the necessary precautions so that she did not get pregnant and remained in the good graces of Corlys and the Small Council - as she imagined, no one suspected her when the already sixty-year-old Lord Velaryon dawned lifeless one random day beside his horrified wife in bed. She had been careful to choose a poison that would cause a quick and painless death, smuggled from the Free Cities almost six months ago, and given in small doses to Corlys' food for almost a week. Rhaenys had done a lot of work to make sure everything worked, but she was particularly proud of her results.

She was not completely soulless, although her actions suggested otherwise; Lord Velaryon had lived long enough and was probably headed towards his end anyway - the only thing the princess did was to antecipate his departure a little, and she even took the trouble to do so in a mostly painless way. Even more, Rhaenys would do her best to ensure that the deceased's daughter was properly cared for and that Alys received everything that was rightfully hers, ensuring that the twelve-year-old girl was immediately titled as Lady of Driftmark and making sure that a advantageous marriage was in her future. That itself was more than what the girl's father had done for her in life; so obsessed with producing a male heir in his young wife, Corlys neglected much of the education of his only daughter, in addition to other areas of her upbringing, such as getting her a good marriage - as always, another limited-vision man who underestimated the importance of a woman. If it weren't for Rhaenys, who cared enough to hire appropriate tutors and housekeepers for the girl, she would probably still be semi-illiterate and completely unprepared.

Lost in thought, Rhaenys daydreamed for the bigger part of the ceremony, and when the Septon found gave his final blessing, Corlys' embalmed body was taken by the Silent Sisters' cortege to rest in the crypts of Driftmark. She quickly rose from her seat in the front row and gently squeezed her stepdaughter's shoulder, who obediently stood up, even though fine tears still streamed down her face as she stared at her father's body being carried away.

"Alys, dear", Rhaenys gently drew the girl's attention to herself, moving her hand to lightly caress her platinum-blonde hair, "you need to rest. Lady Rochford will take you to your quarters, and soon I will send a servant to take your dinner." The little girl nodded, always obedient, and the princess handed her over to the care of the housekeeper, not before placing a quick kiss on her forehead. The affection she had for Alys, after all, was genuine, and Rhaenys didn't want to extend that traumatic day any longer than was necessary for her. She would have to deal with the multiple condolences she was sure were coming alone, but at least she would know that the young heiress would not have to go through this.

After Alys and Corlys' body had been removed from the room, Rhaenys was reunited with her family - or at least with the part of it that had attended the funeral. The moment she found herself alone, her mother approached her almost instantly, hugging her tightly and whispering words of comfort in her ear, while stroking her golden hair under the veil. Public displays of affection were not quite Queen Cersei's style, but when it came to her children, she didn't think twice about comforting them, offering a motherly affection that was quite rare since her three children left childhood behind. Even now, on the verge of the twentieth day of her name and a grown woman, Rhaenys melted into her mother's affectionate embrace like a little child, an effect she knew that Cersei Lannister's hugs had on anyone.

Her father, tall and imposing in his dark robes, just gave her a sad smile and a brief snap of his lips on his daughter's forehead when she finally broke away from her mother, not unlike what she herself had done with her stepdaughter moments before. Rhaenys knew that Rhaegar was not being purposefully distant; he was embarrassed and felt guilty for making his eldest daughter - his favorite, many said - go through the traumatic experience of waking up next to her husband's corpse. The princess had, after all, been quite convincing with her horrified screams that echoed throughout Driftmark's fortress, and the state of shock in which she pretended to be for almost two days after the event, without eating or drinking almost anything, which she was almost certain that it was the real reason why the King and Queen decided to attend the funeral in person.

Although he was the one who made the final decision, Rhaenys was unable to hold a grudge against his father for making her marry Corlys, as she knew he had been pressured by the Small Council - mainly by Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle, may them both burn in the seven hells -, and in the end he had to give in, even very grudgingly. Cersei, however, had not been as flexible as Rhaenys in understanding her husband's position, roaring audibly against that despicable arrangement that was made for their eldest daughter. Their angry screams echoed through the Red Fortress for days, but in the end, this was one of the only times in nearly twenty years of marriage that Cersei Lannister lost an argument with her husband. Even after the wedding took place, there were months of strangeness and coldness between the royal couple, and it was Rhaenys herself who had to assure her mother that her marriage was not all bad so that she could finally treat her husband with the minimum of affection. Much could be said of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but no one could open their mouth to say that she did not fight for her children like a true lioness.

Behind her father, the younger princess looked as uncomfortable as she probably felt; Visenya was as different from Rhaenys as it was possible to be, and perhaps that was why the two had never been exactly close to each other. They shared familial love like any other pair of sisters, but they had really contrasting personalities, so it was hard to have any closer relationship. The younger one had probably been forced to go there, and even though she made a valid attempt to show her condolences to her older sister, Rhaenys knew that she would have preferred to stay in Kings Landing with their brother.

The absence of some members of the royal family was quite prominent. Aegon had stayed in the capital as regent during his parents' brief absence, but even if that hadn't been necessary, he probably wouldn't have attended anyway; her brother liked events like tourneys, banquets and jousting, but he was not made for the solemnities of religious ceremonies, much less funerals, which bored him like nothing else in life. It wasn't any ill will, it was just his way of being. Their aunt Daenerys, who was usually attached to Aegon almost the entire time as a double of Siamese twins, had probably stood by her nephew to make sure he didn't accidentally set the Red Fortress on fire in the absence of a responsible adult. She had sent her condolences in the form of a long letter filled with kind words that brought a smile to Rhaenys' face as she read them, as they were living proof that her aunt had not changed at all since they met for last time.

But it was her uncle Viserys' absence that bothered the princess the most; she was more disappointed than anything, as she had hoped to be able to see him again after so long. In the handful of times that Rhaenys had been at court since marrying, Viserys haven't been present, and she knew he was doing it on purpose to irritate Rhaegar, with whom he had argued fiercely before permanently withdrawing to Dragonstone, mostly because of his niece's wedding. Viserys and Rhaenys spent almost their entire lives believing that at one sooner or later they would be married to each other, simply because it made sense: they were close in age, both Targaryen, but not siblings, since her father seemed adamant about his decision not to unite his children in marriage. If Rhaenys could not be Queen by marrying her younger brother, the only position she felt appropriate would be the Dragonstone sovereign and Viserys' wife, a prince just like her. So, assuming they would be husband and wife sooner or later, they saw no problem in making love now and then, even if they were very discreet about it. It had been pleasant and exciting and felt right, everything that wasn't with Corlys. Viserys never forgave Rhaegar for denying him Rhaenys, and she understood why. Even now, well past the usual age of getting married and producing heirs, he remained one of the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom. Rhaenys knew he was waiting for her, and was more than willing to consummate his will.

So, yes, she had been disappointed when she noticed the prince's absence at Corlys's funeral, mainly because she had dreamed of him sneaking into her quarters in the dead of night and becoming one with her as he used to do before, as she had desired more than anything else for years. But, despite being disappointed, the moment her mother confided to her that she would return to King's Landing together with them, as she had planned from the beginning, Rhaenys knew it was a matter of time before her wish came true. It was no surprise, after all.

Sooner or later, Rhaenys Targaryen - not Velaryon, never Velaryon - always gets what she wants.

Maelor I

Weddings were definitely Maelor's least favorite events.

It wasn't like he hated such ceremonies vehemently or anything; he just saw no fun in spending hours watching people swear vows of love and fidelity that they most likely would not fulfill. He himself had been married for some years, but it was no secret that other women had already warmed his bed after he was married, just as he believed his wife had been in the company of others in the same period. Unlike him, his qarthen wife seemed very satisfied during the celebrations that already lasted almost an entire day. Had it been anyone else's wedding, Maelor would have evaded the ceremony with some excuse, but like the bride's brother, it would be unpolite in the eyes of his hosts to abandon the festivities.

Elaena was indeed at the height of her beauty in her wedding dress, a light silk dress that valued every inch of her body that, at eighteen, already showed all the feminine curves of a grown woman. Dancing and swirling among the Dothraki children and the other women who had timidly joined her, attracted by her contagious happiness, with her long platinum-blond hair adorned with wildflowers and her purple eyes shining with excitement, Elaena was certainly a sight to behold. At the other end of the rectangular table on which Maelor sat, his sister's new husband was also staring at her, looking very satisfied with his beautiful young wife. Khal Moro was a brutish-looking man, taller than Maelor and significantly more muscular, with his brown hair tied in thick braids that fell to his hips, demonstrating that he had never lost in battle before. He was an eccentric-looking man, as a matter of fact, but not necessarily bad looking, although it was not his looks that had attracted the Blackfyre in search of an alliance, but the khalasar of more than twenty thousand men and horses that he commanded.

Moro had given his word during the negotiations that his men would fight for Maelor when the time came, and although he had been skeptical at first because of the well-known dothraki repulsion for eve the idea of crossing the Narrow Sea, when he saw the Khal's stunned gaze at the moment he laid eyes on Elaena for the first time, the eldest Blackfyre knew that this man would make his companions cross the sea by swimming with stones tied to their heels if that meant having her for himself. His sister, always the family strategist, immediately agreed to the arrangement, although Maelor knew that she had always longed to become a queen. When the eldest commented on this, she just shrugged without it giving much thought.

"A Khaleesi is a queen in her own way", she said, and it was as simple as that, and Maelor had suddenly added twenty thousand of some of the best known warriors in the world to his growing army. It was hard to believe that the three children who had left Pentos a few years ago with no real perspective, only with courage and stubbornness, were now getting so close to having enough military power to subdue the western lands and do what their ancestors did not succeeded to do with five attempts: to seat a Blackfyre on the Iron Throne of Westeros.

During his twenty-four years of life, Maelor was discredited multiple times when exposing his auspicious intentions, others taking him for a fool for thinking so high with his controversial origins and lack of resources. Maelor and his younger sisters, Elaena and Daenys, were not descendants of Daemon I Blackfyre by his male lineage; this one had ended with the death of Maelys, the Monstrous in his failed attack during the War of the Kings of the Nine Penny. Instead, Maelor descended from the marriage between Daemon's only surviving daughter with Rohanne of Tyrosh, Calla Blackfyre, and her uncle Aegor Rivers, the Bittersteel. As Rivers was only a nomination for demarcating bastardy and not a surname, his descendants also received the surname Blackfyre, in addition to having Valyrian blood running through their veins on both sides of the family, since Aegor was also the son of Aegon IV, the Unworthy. This was clear to anyone who at least looked at them: both Maelor and his sisters had the platinum-blond hair and purple eyes so characteristic of the Westeros royal family. The three of them were the last survivors of the known line, grandchildren of Bittersteel and great-grandchildren of the Black Dragon, and were raised in Pentos because of a negotiation made by their father with the magister Illyrio Mopatis before his death. Maelor's mother died of a complication in the birth of her youngest daughter, Daenys, and his father fought and died fighting for the Golden Company, leaving him an orphan with two younger sisters, one of whom was a baby, when he was only twelve days old.

Illyrio fed and dressed them for some years, living up to the agreement he had made with Aenor Blackfyre, and even today he was one of his most loyal allies, but Maelor knew from the moment he lost his parents that if he wanted to conquer something significant for himself and his remaining family, he would have to fight for it. In another life, where the claim of the first Daemon would have been validated, Maelor could have been born a prince instead of an exiled beggar, but the reality was not that, and he believed that it was up to him to change that. For this reason, at the tender age of sixteen, the young Blackfyre left Pentos with his sisters on a journey that at the time seemed impossible, aiming to be able to gather the necessary resources and make the last great act of his family in an attempt to achieve what he believed be his by birthright.

Now, eight years later, the distant dream of before seemed no longer so impossible: Maelor had managed to put together piece by piece of what was once the Golden Company founded by his grandfather and which had been fragmented into small mercenary bands after the death of Bittersteel, and now nearly ten thousand golden capes marched by his side carrying the black dragon's banners; he conquered a significant treasure to finance his attack and build ships by accepting to marry the daughter of the qarthen merchant Xaro Xoan Danxos, Zahra, and the fat dowry that came with her, in addition to the support of the fortified city of Qarth, six years ago; and lastly, his sister's marriage would guarantee him an enormous experienced and competent army.

In the end, Maelor's luck had not been so bad; seated by his left was Zahra, in one of her qarthen dresses that exposed one breast, sunlight reflecting in her ebony skin and black curls that fell down her back, and cerulean blue eyes that shone like stars. She was a beauty, that was indisputable, and although they still had no children in six years of marriage, they understood each other well enough. Maelor did not love her - although he did not quite understand why, she was undoubtedly a lovely woman - but he liked her very much. Deep down, he knew that eventually they would go opposite ways - after all, Zahra's preference for women in her bed had become quite obvious after so long, and sooner or later he would need an heir - but for now, Maelor would enjoy the company of his beautiful wife while he still could. On his right, little Daenys - no longer quite that little, at the age of twelve - seemed to be dying to go to her older sister, who was still dancing happily in the center of a small circle that had formed around her, and Maelor knew that the only reason the youngest was still sitting next to him was because he had grounded her for try to choke a Dothraki boy who had pulled her braids. A little troublemaker, that one was, but Maelor loved her anyway.

But, even among all the conquests that the young aspiring king made over eight years, the most significant without a doubt had been the legendary creatures that now flew over the banquet carefree, frightening now and then some unsuspecting dothraki: the three dragons who had born of the petrified eggs that Illyrio gave the three of them when they left his home, and which had hatched later - reborn from the place that, had it not been for their Valyrian blood, could have served as a funeral pyre for Maelor and his sisters in an ambush made by King Rhaegar's men who set fire to the lysen inn where they were spending the night - and marveling the world again with deadly, but beautiful creatures that everyone swore were gone forever. Maelor's predecessors as Blackfyre suitors also had loyal armies, abundant gold and strong alliances, but they all failed anyway; however, the last man who had mounted a dragon and invaded the Seven Kingdoms with his sisters in pursuit had ended up conquering and unifying them under a dynasty that lasted for three hundred years.

The King of Westeros and his pet lords could ignore and repel Blackfyre suitors as much as they wanted, but if history had taught them anything, it was that they couldn't - and shouldn't - ignore dragons.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! That's gonna be a long one, but hopefully we'll keep going up until the end. Just a reminder that English it's not my first language, and if there's any error that i don't see, it would be very kind of you to point it in the reviews!


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